Breaking Ice
by Call Me Ishmel
Summary: It is the aftermath of the war. He is burdened with rebuilding his division and dealing with the mental loss of his childhood friend. She is coming to terms with the fact that she may never see the love of her life again. In the maelstrom of stress and heartache they both hide so well, will they find peace within the company of the other? Or will they find more?
1. Chapter 1

"_Is it true?"_

"_No, it can't be. It's impossible."_

"_It is. I heard it from Ukitake-taicho myself."_

The whispers, muttered in disbelieving, hushed tones in the crowded hallways of the fourth division causes his head to throb. Could they really be this unprofessional? He would have silenced them, told them that their school girl rambling was disgusting, but it just isn't worth his time.

Hitsugaya just wanted to get back to his office, where he would start sorting through the mess that the war with Aizen had left behind. Even though the Captain Commander had given them the day off, to recuperate, to deal with the injured and honour the dead, Hitsugaya didn't want to push the work off. It had to be done, and the sooner, the better.

As he heads toward the door, trying not to be too rude and irritable as he pushes through the crowded corridor, he realizes that someone is blocking his escape, a hindrance in his exit of the claustrophobic, loud, nauseating fourth division.

The shinigami has her back to him, like she is hesitating, unsure whether to leave or to stay. She is remarkably small, with thin pale hands clenched at her sides. She is shorter than he is, and looking at the short spikes of jet black hair that float over her shoulders, he recognizes her.

"Kuchiki," he says, a barely discernable tone of irritation in his voice.

She spins around, large violet eyes widening in surprise. Recovering almost instantly, she hurriedly bows. "Hitsugaya-taicho."

He gives her a curt nod and she looks at him, her eyes silently questioning why he is still standing in front of her.

He sighs. "The door, Kuchiki. I would like to leave."

The way her eyes blink with surprise and embarrassment as realization hits her amuses him a little, just a tiny bit. She scurries out of his way, bowing and muttering a mortified apology. He ignores most of it and sweeps out of the fourth division. It's only when he's half way to his office that it hits him exactly who Kuchiki was.

If she was feeling pain, she hid it well. He hadn't seen any sadness, any regret, any inkling that she was hurt. She seemed collected, if a little dazed. His brows furrows. She knew, she must have known about Ichigo. So wasn't she affected at all?

Hitsugaya shook himself mentally. It is none of his business and he didn't care. Ichigo Kurosaki was no longer a shinigami. Perhaps Soul Society could enjoy the peace they'd somehow found themselves in for a while.

* * *

"Taichoooo," is the sing-song voice his lieutenant greets him with as he opens the door and steps into his office. A vein pops in his head as he observes her, sprawled across the sofa, head lolling to the side as dazed eyes blink up at him, a half empty bottle of sake held loosely in her hands.

"Matsumotto," he only just manages to bite back the growl at the back of his throat. He cannot yell at her. After all, it is a day off. For this one time, he can excuse her laziness. Usually, he reprimands her on principle, knowing nothing will come of it. Not yelling at her will be no different.

She watches him as he sinks into the chair behind his desk, picking up a brush and a sheet of paper, the first of many to come. She frowns in a way that would have made a lesser man drool. He doesn't even glance at her.

"Taicho?" she says, making an effort to sit up and failing. "Why are you working? It's a day off."

"I'm working, Matsumotto, because someone has to and because it's my job."

Surprisingly, she laughs. "Yes, someone has to work," she says and he would have glared at her if the expression in her eyes hadn't caught him off guard. "Which is why we come to work every day. A day off is meant for no work. It's meant for other things. And I think soutaichou meant for this one to be our chance to grieve."

"I don't have time to grieve, Matsumotto," he says gruffly.

"Doesn't mean you aren't."

He ignores her and goes back to the papers on his desk. After a while, she sighs and pulls herself up. "Why don't you go visit Hinamori?" she suggests quietly.

He stiffens but brushes it off. "She's resting."

She searches for something else in vain. Even though she knows it's the last thing that would work, she asks anyway. "I'm going out for a drink. Would you like to come?"

"You've been drinking the entire morning," he says calmly without looking up. He still doesn't yell at her, this time for a different reason. He thinks about the mural of dead that is to be built to honour those who died in the war. Ichimaru's name is on the list. No one calls him a hero, no one calls him a traitor. His name is simply there and everyone is satisfied with keeping silent. So he allows her to walk out of the office, knowing she probably won't return until days later, in a state hardly fit to come to work. She'd be drunk but momentarily oblivious.

He pushes his attention back to his work, driving the war, Aizen, Ichigo Kurosaki and Momo out of his mind, focusing only on the words before him. Sake is Matsumotto's way of dealing with her grief and this is his.

* * *

She should have fought harder to take the seated officer's exam. This is what Rukia thinks as she finally leaves the fourth division. She had been one of Unohana's own patients, something she suspected came from her brother's…insistent nature. She wasn't too injured, certainly not severely enough to require the captain's attention but she was too scared and Unohana too patient to refuse Byakuya's request.

It makes her wince, recalling the conversation she'd had with her brother before she'd been released. For the first time, she'd personally asked him to take the exam. His response had been expected but she could still feel the stinging sensation of utter disappointment that came with it. Her motives she was sure he could see. After all, this was the first time she had ever voiced it with him. Before, it was an understanding that he knew about her desire to rise in the ranks and that she knew he would never let her.

She wanted to see Ichigo. As an unseated officer, the chances of her being allowed to the human world were tragic, especially after the disaster with Aizen.

She knows that it won't be the same. Ichigo won't be able to see her at all. But she still wants to see him. It is an uncontrollable desire that she has, this need to ensure that he is doing well, living the life he's entitled to. She cannot get rid of it, as much as she tries to do so. But it is something she will have to learn to ignore. This she knows, this is what causes the ache in the centre of her chest.

The Captain Commander granting a day off has never been heard of before, not while she has been a shinigami at least. But the scarcity of fellow officers as she walks around Seireitei tells her of the loss they have suffered and she knows that the day off is much needed. Everyone is grieving, in some way or another and even if she has not lost someone close to her to death, she is no different.

There are many things she could do. She can visit Renji, who is still recovering, but somehow the prospect of the fourth division doesn't appeal to her. She could spend the time with her brother but she knows he will be too busy for her today. She could visit her captain, but he would just tell her to go and enjoy her day off.

She is still contemplating when she runs into someone. Stumbling back, she looks up into the face of Matsumotto Rangiku, lieutenant of the tenth division. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders at the chances of her running into the two commanding officers of the tenth division in one afternoon.

"Kuchiki-san," the lieutenant says, the scent of sake obvious on her person. However, she doesn't look as drunk as Rukia knows she can get.

"Matsumotto-fukutaicho," she bows, taking a step back.

The voluptuous woman waves away her curtsy and says, "What are you doing on this fine day, Kuchiki-san?"

"Um," she doesn't know what to say, and shifts from foot to foot.

"Ah, why don't you come to the bar with me?"

"I don't drink." And nii-sama would kill me.

Matsumotto pouts, but doesn't protest. "Well, enjoy your day off, Kuchiki-san." And waving goodbye at her, she sets off.

The mind is a tricky thing. Perhaps it was the coincidence of meeting both Hitsugaya and Matsumotto within a half an hour of each other, or perhaps it was just accidental. However, when Rukia commences her wandering after her encounter with Matsumotto, thoughts distracted and not really paying attention to where she was going, she eventually finds herself looking up at the tenth division office.

She doesn't know why she ended up there. She is not familiar with the tenth division or its captain, whose presence she can feel inside. She has no business there and she turns to leave when she is confronted with Kiyone.

"Rukia!" the third seat exclaims, balancing a stack of papers in her hands. "Are you going in?"

"Well, I-I…" she stammers for a response, but even she can't explain why she is there.

"Great! Would you do me a huge favour? Please, Rukia-chan. I'd be so grateful."

Running a hand through her hair, Rukia slowly nods. "I suppose…"

"Thank you!" Kiyone gushes, "Just give these forms to Hitsugaya-taicho. I have a lot of rounds to do and admittedly, I'm a little scared of him."

"But isn't it supposed to be a day off?"

"Yes," Kiyone says, thrusting a pile of papers in the smaller shinigami's hands. "But Ukitake-taicho was feeling unwell, so I thought I'd make his work easier tomorrow by getting some stuff done today."

"But I could have—"

"I won't hear of it. You need this day off more than most of us. Enjoy it Rukia-chan."

Rukia nods numbly, watching the other girl skip away. Sighing, she turns back to the tenth division office, thinking that at least now she has a reason for being there.

She knocks, holds her breath and waits.

"Come in."

She pushes open the door and for the first time thinks about what Hitsugaya might think, seeing her twice for the day. Perhaps he would think she was stalking him. She bites back a smile, oddly amused at the notion.

"Kuchiki," he greets her without looking up, busy with his brush. He doesn't sound surprised and Rukia quickly states her reason for intruding on him so he doesn't begin to suspect.

"I have some files for you, sir."

He just nods and gestures for her to rest them on his table. She does so and then waits for his dismissal. It doesn't come. It seems the young captain had become so immersed in his work that he momentarily forgets about her.

"Would you like some help, sir?"

It snaps him out of his thoughts and surprises her as well. She's not sure why she said it but she can't and won't back out of it now. He considers her for a long time, long enough to make her uncomfortable with his piercing teal gaze. And just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, when she begins to regret her words, he looks away with a grunt and points her to Matsumotto's adjacent desk.

"If you don't mind losing your day off, then you're free to try your hand at that."

She's oddly grateful somehow and with a quick nod, sets to work. She wants to ask him why he's working but she already knows. He isn't the time to neglect work, for whatever reason. She has never been to the tenth for more than a few minutes before, and she muses that it's like visiting another place altogether. It's quiet, neat, and productive, saturated with an aura of its icy captain and spontaneous lieutenant unfamiliar to her.

She's too distracted to think of Ichigo, focused on the work before her. It's a welcome distraction and she realizes that she needed it.

Hitsugaya-taicho, who doesn't acknowledge her afterward, seems just as content, probably unused to having someone who aids him in paperwork.

Whatever the reason the two, who has had no proper prior relationship, find themselves content for the while, if only because they offer something unintentionally to the other. For her, a distraction, for him, a change.

And neither of them, as odd as the arrangement seemed, would complain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Two days ago, at the mention of Hitsugaya's name, Rukia wouldn't have paid much attention. She hardly knows him, after all and the interaction between the two had been polite and scarce. But now, whenever anyone mentions his name, she can't help but look up and be curious, her mind wandering instantly to the evening they shared.

She thinks constantly of Ichigo and when she does, nothing can tear her mind away from it, nothing except that evening in the tenth division office. She thinks it's because it was unusual and unexpected but whatever the reason, she is secretly glad.

She doesn't see him again for a while. Seireitei is only just beginning to rebuild where it has been broken and she has been busy with her division, just as he has been with his. It isn't new that they don't see each other but she finds herself wishing that they did. It surprises her, how can just one evening affect her so? She doesn't know. There is an odd pull that comes with the young captain and to her, it is suddenly intriguing. It's also very contradictory as most would describe him as distant and cold. Sometimes, in the rare case of a short break from her duties, when she finds herself thinking about him, she would confuse herself and tie her thoughts into knots. Was he cold? Certainly. So why was he so interesting to her? Was it because he was a fellow ice-wielder? It was possible. While her responsibilities for her division is taxing, it is nothing new to her, regardless if she has duties above that of an unseated officer. So she finds the time to wonder and think, knowing that there is nothing else exciting in her life to dwell on, not without Ichigo, at least.

And then Ukitake-taicho calls her into a meeting.

She is on friendly terms with her captain and he treats her more like a father would a daughter than a captain would a subordinate. She is used to conversing freely with him, walking into his office, having tea, completing paperwork by his desk.

The formality of an actual meeting surprises her. And it makes her uneasy.

At the appointed time, she approaches his office and knocks while she opens it. She only has to see the flap of a gold tinged haori and the flutter of black hair before she quickly bows, her forehead almost meeting the ground.

"Ni-sama, Ukitake-taichou," she mumbles.

"Rukia," her captain exclaims, "Punctual as always." Somehow, she gets the inclination that the compliment was for her brother's sake. "Please, have a seat."  
She slowly settles into the chair beside her brother, trying to act refined and composed like a noble should. Inside, she is shaking with confusion and maybe even a little fear. For a moment, she wonders if her brother decided to take her out of the Gotei 13 altogether. It's the worst thing she can imagine and it makes the colour drain out of her face.

"Great," Ukitake says with forced cheerfulness. "Now that we are all here, we can proceed." He looks at the two siblings before him, so different yet very much the same. His subordinate seems uneasy, but he can hardly blame her. But he smiles slightly, thinking about what her reaction would be when he breaks the news.

"Rukia," he addresses her, "Your brother and I are both aware that you very much want to attain a higher seated position within the division."

She flinches, thinking it's an accusation. She thinks it makes her sound like she had been begging for the opportunity. Byakuya remains stoic.

"So after much deliberation, among other things," her captain shoots the silent Byakuya a pointed look, "And with the permission of the soutaichou, we have decided to give you the chance."

He is not disappointed by her reaction. At first, she just stares at him, disbelief colouring her eyes. and then there is an explosion of hope as her face flushes and her eyes widened, realizing that he is serious (her brother doesn't contradict, that is all the confirmation she needs) quickly controlled so that she doesn't lose herself in her emotions and do something inappropriate, like sing, or scream at the top of her lungs in victory.

Instead, she smiles broadly at him and gives him a grateful nod. "Thank you, taicho." She shoots a questioning look at her brother.

Feeling the need to say something, he says curtly, "I have given my permission, though there are conditions."

"Conditions," Ukitake waves it away like his words are merely cobwebs, earning a glare from the noble.

"Conditions?" some of the elation fades out of her and Rukia can imagine she being the only seated officer in history not allowed to go on missions, or carry a zanpaktou. She doesn't put it below her brother to forbid her those things.

"It is unusual for an unseated officer to rise quickly in the ranks as some would suspect…underhanded methods to buy your way there." Byakuya shoots him another glare and Ukitake hurries on. "You will no doubt rise very quickly, seeing as you graduated from the academy with enough to be a third seat, at least. So the soutaichou has agreed to let you take the Vice Captain's exam, even if you are currently unseated. As far as I know, the only other person to take a commanding officer's exam while unseated was Hitsugaya-taicho."

Rukia was surprised. She had expected only a seated position, not vice captain. But, even if it was all impromptu, she would take the test today, if they wished.  
"One of the conditions your brother requested," Ukitake continued, "Was that you be given a twelve month period to train for the exam. Strong you may be, the vice captain's position requires a person stronger than you might think."

Rukia simply nods, already planning out a training schedule in her head compatible with her division duties.

"You will continue your normal training as usual," her captain went on, "But additional training, preferably by a vice captain or a captain, will be needed. Your brother and I will be there to assist you when possible, and you can seek help from your companions. Abarai-fukutaicho, I believe will be more than happy to help you. You know yourself and you capabilities better than anyone, Rukia, so if they agree, the sooner you find a suitable instructor, the better."

"I understand," she says, face suddenly serious as she tries to think about the captains and vice captains she knows that would be willing to train her.

"Another thing," Ukitake calls back her attention, "After you have taken the exam, in the event that you fail, you will be required to resume your original position as an unseated officer, regardless of if you prove yourself capable of a higher seat."

Rukia glances at her expressionless brother. So this was his plan. He was giving her the opportunity to test herself. If she passed then he must have considered the possibility that she would and was willing to live with the decision. If she failed, then she would be right back where she started and he, at least, would comfort himself with the fact that he had given her a chance.

"I won't fail," she says firmly and while the words are said to Ukitake they are directed to Byakuya.

* * *

The look Unohana gives him as he walks into the fourth division makes him irritated. Her eyes are disapproving, her expression firm and as severe as he has ever seen it. If she were any other person, Hitsugaya imagines that she would be shaking her head at him, tsking.  
He gives her his customary frown and she leads him to Hinamori's room.

"Take as much time as you need, Hitsugaya-taicho." The accusatory tone isn't lost on him and he just grunts as she closes the door behind her.  
The room is dark and cool, the curtains pulled across the windows, shutting out all light. She looks peaceful, he notes as he takes a seat next to her bed, more peaceful than he has seen her in a long time, since before Aizen's betrayal.

Momo had always been pretty, and even with her sickly pallor and bruised eyes she still brought forward that affectionate side of him. Tendrils of hair are spread across the white pillow and he can see indents in the mattress and sheets where she must have turned and twisted at night, probably the result of nightmares. His hands clench and he feels angry, not only that she was hurt but that he had not been able to do anything about it.

He doesn't know why people think that sitting by the bedside of a person who isn't even aware that you are there is supposed to bring comfort. The logical side of him tells him that it doesn't make sense, that Momo doesn't know that he's there, waiting for her to wake up. But he supposes that when she does wake up, when she hears that he was there, by her side, waiting for her, then maybe it will convince her that he is trying, very hard to keep his promise.

Yes, contrary to popular belief, Hitsugaya Toushiro has a heart, one opened to few and more often than not locked away beneath an icy demeanour, but it was a heart nonetheless and even if his face remained impassive, inside, it was breaking.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I'm really sorry if this is late and I know that the chapters are short. That will change pretty soon but I'm just trying to get this story up and running. Thanks to all of you who reviewed and who took the time to read this. I'm so very grateful. And I can't believe I forgot this before, but...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own.**

* * *

It has been about a month since her meeting with her captain and her brother, and in that month Rukia has realized that there are levels to exhaustion and fatigue she has never felt before. Panting on the grass of the clearing, she tries to catch her breath, sucking in deep gulps of air that does nothing to ease the constriction of her chest or the stitch in her side.

"I can't believe you actually thought you were stronger than me," Renji says from somewhere beside her, a mixture of amuse and disbelief in his voice.

Rukia cannot believe it either. She is so used to beating him up in their small arguments and fights that she always assumed herself on equal footing with him. She never once considered that they had never really fought, nothing more than sparring or kidou. And she realizes that she never took into consideration that he has achieved bankai and she has not. So logically—and realistically, though she never knew until now—he has always been stronger than her.

But Renji knows—not that he'll ever tell her before time—that once she achieves bankai (and she will) she will be a great deal stronger than him.  
It's been little more than two weeks since he was discharged from the fourth, and since then he has spent almost every day with Rukia, training her, teaching her what he can. It's a mutual agreement: he gets the training he needs after two weeks in the fourth and she gets help for her exam. She appreciates his help, she really does. She is more comfortable with him than she will be with anyone else and he knows her, her limit and her abilities better than most. But in the two weeks they'd been training together, she realizes that he is not the suitable tutor her captain advised her to find. His techniques, while strong and infallible, are blunt and almost reckless, forceful and direct. She is used to a more elegant way of fighting, being careful, precise and cunning.

Renji has been given a reprieve of his division duties for recovery. He has been using this time to get himself back in shape and help her. Today is his last day before he goes back to his normal duties and while she is grateful for his help, she is eager to find an appropriate tutor without hurting his feelings. She just cannot think of anyone who will do.

Renji plops into the ground besides her, his long lanky body stretched out beside her much shorter, much smaller one. "Any idea why your brother suddenly decided to let you be a lieutenant?" he asks lazily, but there is a note of seriousness and genuine curiosity in his voice.

"He isn't letting me be a lieutenant," she says, her eyes tracing the contours of the clouds above them. Every one she sees reminds her of a rabbit, for some reason. "He is giving me the chance to convince him and myself that I am not yet ready to be a lieutenant, or a seated officer."

"I figured as much," he replies with a smirk, "I suppose we will just have to prove him wrong."

She smiles lazily, but there is an edge of apprehension when she says, "We will try."

She has never realized how much she doubted her ability to be a higher seat until presented with the opportunity. She starts to sit up. "We should get back to—"

Something light hits the side of her face, blocking out the vision in her left eye. She blinks uncertainly, shaking her head. Renji, observing her through lazy eyes, barks out a laugh.

The hell butterfly pulls itself off her face, much to her chagrin. It flutters onto her shoulder and relays its message.

A frown pulls down between confused violet eyes.

"What is it?" Renji suddenly asks.

"The Captain Commander is requesting my presence," she informs him, brushing the creature away and standing on her feet.

"What for?"

"He didn't say."

"Let me walk you," he says, also rising.

"No, Renji," she tells him, polite but firm, a trace of the Kuchiki noble working its way onto her face and into her voice. "I'll be fine."

He gives up, watching her walk away, back straight, shoulders stiff. He had thought that they were improving. After so many years of not even talking to each other, he was glad when they had reunited, in the figurative sense, at least. But he is only just beginning to realize that he had missed a lot in those years, and that there were pieces of her he didn't know, and probably wouldn't be given the chance to. She was walled off, firmly, and even if he hadn't tried yet, he had a feeling that there was nothing he, at least, could do about it.

Renji sank back into the grass.

Maybe a certain orange haired teen with an ill temper would have better luck. Renji thought about Ichigo's currently powerless situation. Then again, maybe not.

* * *

It isn't every day that the Captain of the Fourth Division pays a personal visit to a fellow Captain on terms not social. But there she was, Retsu Unohana, standing before him, her surprisingly nerve-wracking gaze locked on his slightly irritated and impatient teal glare.

"Well, Hitsugaya-taicho," she prods him primly.

"I don't have time for this," he growls at her, his hands clenching over his brush, causing the fragile wood to splinter and spill ink over the neat papers.

"You haven't seen her in a month," she presses.

"I have been busy," he replies shortly. He goes back to his work, trying to seem uninterested.

Unohana heaves a heavy sigh. "I know you don't think that it makes much sense for a person to visit the bedside of someone who is comatose—"

"I don't—"

"However," she goes on, "One day, she is going to wake up. Unfortunately, we cannot guess exactly when. Don't you want to be there when she does?"

Hitsugaya presses his fingers to his temple, feeling the beginnings of a headache. "It would not matter," he grits out, "If I spend twelve hours a day at her bedside and she chooses to wake up while I am on patrol, or on a mission."

"But how would you know?"

"That's the thing," he says, looking back at the papers on his desk. "We don't know. If and when she wakes up, I can assure you I will be there. Until then, it doesn't make any sense for me to be there."

"Very well," Unohana concedes tightly, drawing herself up to her full height which—if he bothered to spare her a glance—is quite intimidating. "You may do as you wish. But—"

She is interrupted by the arrival of a hell butterfly, saving him from the rest of her tedious lecture. The small creature alights on his shoulder, and before the entire message is relayed, he is waving it away, standing on his feet.

"Forgive me, Unohana-taicho," he says, "The Captain Commander is requesting me. Perhaps we might continue this conversation at another time." It is a clear dismissal, and she takes it with grace, allowing him to lead the way out the office. The gentle captain bids him goodbye and he flash steps away.

Before he even reaches the first division, he knows who is there. The reiatsu only very recently became familiar, and it is not one he has felt in four weeks. He thinks it odd that she would be there as well: their brief encounter at his office meant little to nothing to him.

Slightly curious, he walks in, offering the old man a bow.

She glances over her shoulder at him, that one stray ply of hair cutting across her face. She gives him a nod of acknowledgement. He does the same.  
"Hitsugaya-taicho."

"Kuchiki."

There's an odd note of amuse in her voice, coupled by some curiosity and surprise. It takes him off guard.

"Hitsugaya," Yamamoto greets him curtly. The old man sits behind a handsome, massive desk that is piled quite neatly with papers. There are many drawers and compartments that must hold a lot of secrets and nearly all of them are kept locked. The office is bare and lacks any sort of personality. It allows quite a splendid view of Seireitei that goes wasted and there's a chill around the room. Hitsugaya likes it. Rukia doesn't.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here," the Commander begins.

"It crossed my mind," Hitsugaya says, folding his arms.

"Recently, there has been an alarming influx of Hollows in the higher Rukongai districts. They are reported to be quite powerful and large, and the death rate as of yesterday numbered hundreds." He paused for a moment, selecting a sheet of paper from his desk.

"So why haven't the twelfth division investigated?" Hitsugaya asked, frowning. "And what does this have to do with us?"

Rukia glances at him, surprised that he used 'us' and not 'me'.

"Kurotsuchi-taicho did investigate," the Captain Commander goes on, "And his report is what involves you, Hitsugaya-taicho, and Kuchiki-san."

"How so, soutaichou?" Rukia asks, speaking for the first time.

"These Hollows, it may seem, have one similar characteristic about them," Yamamoto said, "It is their ability to produce and control fire and heat. The report states that they can generate their own conflagration, and have been the cause of many fires in the districts. None of the teams that have been sent out have been able to do much damage to them, given their inability to approach or even get close to the Hollows."

Hitsugaya and Rukia both understood. They were needed for their affinity with cold and ice. It made sense.

The old man turns to look at Hitsugaya. "You and Kuchiki-san are being sent to exterminate these Hollows as soon as possible. I expect a full report at the earliest convenience. You may leave."

They both nod and leave his office. When the door closes behind them, Hitsugaya looks at the small shinigami beside him and he wonders briefly why she was chosen and not Kotesu-fukutaicho, who also wielded a zanpaktou of ice.

"How much time do you need to prepare for this mission, Kuchiki?" he asks her briskly.

"I need only inform my captain, Hitsugaya-taicho," she replies immediately, and he is grateful that she is a quick-thinking woman.

"Good, meet me at the gate in an hour. One hour, Kuchiki. Do not keep me waiting." And he flash steps off, heading for his division to leave instructions with his lieutenant that will be ignored.

"I never intended to," Rukia retorts under her breath before flash stepping off herself, unaware that he catches the words anyway.

* * *

**I'll try to do a chapter every week, but I don't have that much faith in myself. I love hearing from you guys *hint hint*.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Forgive me for the late update. I know I broke my promise the minute I made it and I'm sorry! But life got in the way (it's annoying like that). However, be assured that this story will be completed and my delays (I predict many) is not because I lost interest but rather because of time. **

**This is going to stick to the plotline of the manga, and I wanted it to be as canon as possible but seeing as this is a **_**crack pairing**_**, that is highly improbable. So this story is basically sand filling the crevices between the rocks of the actual thing. Why Hitsugaya and Rukia? I think if you locked them in the same room, something interesting would happen, something worth writing about. Perhaps romance is a bit farfetched. However, the beginning stages of their relationship, when I think about it, fascinates me. And since this is my story and my brain has already rushed through acquaintances and friendship and has settled on seeing them together, there will be romance, later down because this is going to be as genuine as possible. I love to set myself up for painful falls.**

**Warning: I suck at fight scenes. I tried my best. It's lame.**

**I like Hitsugaya, He's cute.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own.**

Few things ever surprise Hitsugaya. Years of being partnered with the most spontaneous woman on the planet has dwindled his astonishment somewhat. Yet upon reaching the gate, he experiences that rare feeling of absolute unexpectedness.

He truly did not expect her to be late. He certainly did not expect her to be _earlier_ than him, either. But there she is, calmly _waiting for him_. For a moment he feels disappointed in himself, but he shakes it off. It's not as if he is late. No, she is merely early. Too early.

In the moment in which she has yet to learn that he is there, he studies the person he has been partnered with. He does not know much about her. She has always been Kuchiki-taicho's silent sister, stuck in an unmoving place between any shinigami's desires and her brother's protection. She is affiliated with a great deal of people, despite her brother's intentions, and if he listened to gossip, he probably would know a lot more about her. He did not but found that he wanted to.

She is a strange thing, he settles on as he observes her, slowing his pace unconsciously. If he had been one to notice, he probably would have noted that she was, in fact, rather pretty. She is not Matsumoto's archetypal, curvaceous type that brimmed with confidence, nor is she Hinamori's delicately refined sort. She is something all on her own, nothing he had experienced before, doubtless because of his inactivity and disinterest. She is slight and pale, and looks brittle, almost the perfection of a well painted doll. But she is not perfection. That one stray ply of dark hair cuts across her face like a landmark, a reminder, a characteristic; something that, if removed, will be missed. A blemish of hardness and determination, of strength of mind and will and of stolen innocence darkens violet eyes that would have—_should have_—been bright and clear. Her hand always rested comfortably on the hilt of her katana at her hip, scarred fingers curled around it lightly. She stands at ease, relaxed and graceful as a noble should but there is an unbridled energy in her, the readiness to move, strike and _react_ to the slightest change of comfort.

"Kuchiki," he says.

She turns, eyes widening in a brief moment of uncertainty, and then that smile is pulling the corner of her mouth, like a smirk but not, amused but not mean. "Captain," she says in return and he cannot, for the life of him, figure out what it is about his presence she finds so damn amusing all the time.

"Are you ready?"

"I am, sir." Brisk and respectful. She would be easy to work with.

"Let's go."

They shunpo through most of the Rukongai , Rukia a half a step behind Hitsugaya. She does it out of respect of position, but really, he is pretty fast. She takes the time to study him. He is remarkably small for his evident power, lithe, fast, nimble. He is proud, though he has reason to be. She knows that the Shinigami Women's Association has a rather primitive interest in him, one brought about by none other than his own lieutenant. Rukia tries to see him the way they do. She supposes he is good-looking, though her lack of experience with the other sex limits her range of opinion. He is incredibly strong and incredibly intelligent, a prodigy, the reincarnate of a deity. She doesn't find the air around him cold, as most do. She finds it oddly...resilient, though she doesn't know if that is because she, too, wields a zanpaktou of ice.

They alight on a thatched rooftop. They are in a part of the Rukongai where it is poorest and most populated. The streets are dirty, the houses dilapidated and the people uncared for. She muses that if a few things were changed in her past, she would probably be on those streets right now.

"Do you feel that, Kuchiki?" Hitsugaya asks her, his intense gaze turned south, where the beginnings of a weakened forest stands. The trees are withered and shrivelled, leafless and blackened.

"The heat, sir?"

He nods, eyes furrowing with such an intense look Rukia is sure he could will things to be with just his mind. He straightens up and looks over his shoulder at her briefly. "Keep up but stay behind."

They take off. The heat becomes blistering as they enter the forest. Hitsugaya stops a few meters in and she follows him wordlessly. She is not one to simply accept that he is purposely putting her behind him to keep her out of most of the danger, even though she is a shinigami just as he is, and was selected for this mission by the Head Captain just as he was. But a thought has begun to form in her mind and she thinks it best that she obey his every word if it ever wants to have a chance of being.

Rukia wipes her brow. She supposes that if she were not an ice wielder and her own reiatsu wrapped around her like a blanket of cool, she would have died from the heat. Or perhaps if she wielded fire she would have fared better. The heat is tangible. She feels it licking at her skin, pressing in on her from all sides.

She looks over at the captain. He is taking it a lot better than her. His entire body is focused, wrought with attention to every detail. His eyes scan the area and she does not doubt that he can see through every opening in the densely packed trees.

"Captain?"

"Kuchiki." Her voice does not impede his concentration. His reply is almost a reaction.

"Do you hear that?" she asks him.

"I do."

The cackling of fire. It is soft, though not distant. Fire is mostly a silent destruction. Rukia follows Hitsugaya's gaze. She can see the fire now. Trees are suddenly orange and red as the flames climb and devour, steadily making their way across the forest until it would consume it all. And amidst the flames, Rukia can see the hollows.

There are three visible ones though she cannot be sure if others are not hidden in the blaze. She has never seen hollows like these before and after casting a quick glance in Hitsugaya's direction, she knows that he has not either.

The shape of their bodies seem molten, as though they had melted and reformed. Instead of the bone white of normal hollows with their distinctive black markings, these are an ash grey and their markings seem to have been burnt into their bodies. Fire wraps itself around them, flitting in and out of every crevice, seemingly directed and originated from the hollows themselves.

In a sudden burst, the fire surrounds them. It moves as though alive, stealthy and unbelievably fast. There is nowhere they can retreat or fall back to. Rukia unseals Shirayuki and Hitsugaya unsheathes Hyourinmaru.

"Behind me, Kuchiki," he reminds her. She takes a step back and the first hollow attacks.

She doesn't even see it. In a blur of red, it leaps forward. For an instant, just one moment, the overwhelming heat bearing down on them disappears and a shock of cold sweeps through the forest. Rukia sees the flames around them splutter and bend and there is the sound of something breaking.

When the proverbial dust settles, that is when she is able to process exactly what had just happened, she realizes that Hyourinmaru's still sealed form is imbedded at the centre of an Adjucha's mask and Hitsugaya is still standing on his feet in front of her, his expression calm, the mere air around him blisteringly cold. That is the first time Rukia appreciates, truly appreciates, just how strong he is.

She is a little winded by the realization. How can she not be?

When the initial attack has been played, there is no more waiting around. The players of the game spring into action, fuelled by the energy of the opening act.

In total, there were five hollows and two Adjuchas, sans the one Hitsugaya had purified. Rukia fought the hollows and Hitsugaya the Adjuchas. With each one they took down, the fire around them gutted, entire areas of it going out like a candle. Rukia guesses this is due to their combined spiritual power—his more than hers.

Their battle commences something like this:

"To your right, Kuchiki," he calls out to her. He has his back to her but she still moves out of the way and just barely avoids a burst of angry flames.

She just finishes her third hollow when one of the remaining two abandons his interest in her and heads for Hitsugaya's unguarded back. She dances, the hollow freezes and then shatters to pieces.

He releases his shikai. The flames go out and the last hollow hesitates. The final Adjucha doesn't stand a chance. Rukia takes advantage and defeats her last hollow. Hitsugaya does the same.

When it's all over, the two are left standing in a scarred clearing of forest that seems burnt yet is covered in a layer of ice and snow. He has fared better than her, with no injuries that she can see. She has more burns and scratches than she wants to admit. But it's oddly refreshing, collecting her breath after one of the best fighting experiences she has ever had saturated in his reiatsu. That's what it was. His reiatsu.

He turns to look at her. "The Head Captain expects our return," he says expressionlessly.

"So he does."

They leave. The only difference between their journey there and the return journey is that he no longer tells her to stay behind him. She is beside him.

"Kuchiki."

"Sir." She stops and turns where she stands outside the Head Captain's office. He looks at her with an unreadable expression and she returns it with a polite, inquiring one. Somewhere along the way of learning how powerful he was, she lost her courage and stays silent, even though the question, the request, lies at the surface of her tongue.

"Why you?" He says finally, breaking the silence that had begun to grow between them. "You are unseated with no qualifications for such a mission. Why did the Head Captain choose you?"

She takes the time to ponder the question. "If I had no qualifications, would I have come back alive? Would I have been able to be your partner, to protect your back when you could not? Would the Head Captain have chosen me?"

"You are unseated."

"As were you once."

"For a very short time."

"Some of us are not that fortunate, Captain," she says quietly, her eyes steady on him like a beam of light. "You had one extreme period of time in which you were unseated. So have I, if in reverse nature."

He considers her for a long time. But this time his gaze is not intimidating. It is challenging and she holds it with a defiance of her own.

"How long?" he asks finally. Rukia doesn't have the time to be surprised by the precise question. The Head Captain's decision, his allowance to have her on their mission would have clued him in to her situation. Her reply would have confirmed and detailed it.

"Twelve months," she says confidently. Another person might have been discomforted by the restraint in time. Not her. It was a challenge after all.

"What position?"

"Lieutenant."

His eyebrows lift, fractionally, true, but enough that she sees and it strokes her ego. She had surprised him.

"You are unseated," he reiterates.

"So we have established."

"That would take a miracle," he says, unimpressed.

"Or the reincarnate of a heavenly deity." The request on the surface of her tongue manifests itself in her reply. She regrets it immediately but does not back down. There is a challenge in her eyes now, too.

He smiles.

Rukia blinks.

_He smiles_. The corners of his mouth just barely tilt but it is a smile nonetheless. If she had been walking, she would have tripped in her surprise.

"I suppose it would," he says vacantly, walking past her. "You know where to find me." He disappears, his shunpo too fast for her to follow. She gaps at the place where he had stood, where traces of his comfortingly cool reiatsu still lingered.

Had the mighty and proud Captain Hitsugaya of the Tenth Division just agreed to train her?


	5. Chapter 5

**So, I realize that it's been literal months since my last update and I don't even know what I've been doing all this time. But do I decide to pay attention to this story in the middle of finals, with a bunch of exams every day and a studying schedule the length of my arm? Yup.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

Rukia has no doubt that she is brave. Maybe not a hero, perhaps not worthy of immortalization on some pedestal and certainly not in the selfless, noble way. But she is brave in a way that counts for her.

Every day she can walk through the corridors of her brother's manor, of _her home_, and hear the whispers that are louder than is acceptable for whispers and hold her head high, because she no longer doubts her right to be there.

Yet it takes her three whole days before she goes to Hitsugaya. But she doesn't see her hesitance as cowardice. No, it is more indecisiveness.

The more she thinks about it, the more she begins to believe that she had imagined the entire thing. Hitsugaya Toushiro _did not_ make a subtle suggestion that he is willing to train her. In fact, he had made no suggestion at all. He had calmly bid her good day and then went about his business. Anything other than that was just ludicrous.

But try as she might, she could not let it go.

And if there is a possibility, slim as it was, that she had not imagined it, Rukia knows she would regret it should she not take the opportunity.

Firmly deciding that she should at least confirm his offer, she resolves herself to see him. Three days go by and she tells herself she is simply waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. As has happened many times in the past, it is her captain that gives her the push she needs.

She is in his office, leaning over his desk from the chair meant for visitors, sorting through papers stacked like the buildings of a modern human city. Ukitake does his work slowly, sipping a delicate china cup of tea, at moments gazing into middle distance thoughtfully. This is probably why his desk is so densely packed and why he appreciates Rukia's company. And neat calligraphy.

"So how has training been lately?" he asks her, lazily swirling the contents of his cup, his brush abandoned for what appears to be a lengthy reprieve.

She hesitates, not only in her answer but in her writing as well. For a brief moment, she stills and he catches it, watching her on the other side of his desk, dark head bent over sheets of paper. His interest spikes.

Finally, she says, "Renji went back to work three days ago. I've been on my own since then so I cannot really speak of my progress." She goes back to writing, that instance of tension all but forgotten.

"Of course you can," he presses lightly. "Has anything happened that can be reported?"

Her brush slips out of her hand and he smiles. Though she is a talented actress, when unprepared for it, he knows that she can get very agitated when trying to hide something or is not being very honest.

She snatches the brush up and meets his eyes with a plastered smile. "Nothing, sir."

"Now, Rukia, you're being dishonest," he teases, "Did something happen? If you have achieved bankai then you should at least _tell_ someone, you know."

"I did not," she protests firmly, shaking her head with such vigour he worries it would damage her neck.

"Then...?"

She leans back in her chair, playing with the brush distractedly. The look she gives him is very confused, uncertain and doubtful. Ukitake puts down his cup and gives her his full attention.

"I was sent on a mission a few days ago," she begins. He remembers. The report afterwards was one he had not been prepared for. _Three Adjuchas?_ And what an unusual power. Rukia did not know but that mission had been the reason behind several recent Captains' meetings and a full-fledged, not-to-be-taken-lightly investigation by the Twelfth Division.

"Afterward," she continues, "He...well, I think he did—perhaps I am wrong but I suspect it did happen, though one cannot be sure when it comes to him..."

"He?" Ukitake says. "Him? Are you talking about Hitsugaya-taicho?"

She nods, seeming very unsure of herself, something he has only ever seen her be in the presence of her brother. Ukitake leans forward, intrigued to know what the lad could have possibly said to leave the usually unruffled shinigami before him so...well, ruffled. "What did he say, Rukia?" he prods gently.

"I think he offered to train me." It comes out in a rush of exalted air, like a heavy secret.

Ukitake keeps his face carefully schooled. "And have you accepted?" he asks placidly.

She seems surprised by his reaction. "Well...no..."

"And why not?" He straightens up and flips through some forms diligently before shuffling them into order and stacking them neatly to the side. He is pretty sure he has just mixed up recruitment forms with letters from the Commander's office but he has gotten the desired effect. Rukia is incredulous at his calm, almost nonchalant behaviour.

"Are you not surprised, sir?" she asks him. "That Hitsugaya-taicho should offer to train anyone has never been heard of before. Certainly not someone he does not know. He has never been one to accept protégés."

He looks at her blankly. "So then why would he ask you?"

"I hadn't quite figured that out myself," she admits, "I was under the impression I had all but imagined it."

"_You_ are not a person to imagine things, Rukia," he replies in a voice that sounds slightly chastising. "Nor are you one to mix the world of the mind with the world of reality. If you say Hitsugaya-taicho made you an offer of tutelage, then I suspect that he did."

"But...isn't it unorthodox?"

"Perhaps," he says distantly, "Perhaps not."

Rukia considers the man before her for a while, thinking over the situation with new perspectives. "What if," she begins tentatively, "What if he made that remark without thought? What if it was unintended? What if he regrets it?"

"You shan't know until you confront him," Ukitake says wisely. "In my dealings with Hitsugaya-taicho, he has yet to make a remark that was unintended. He is, by all standards set, a thinker, and no word leaves his lips unless he means it to."

Rukia still has doubts. He can tell.

"If this offer is genuine," he continues with confidence not really faked, "Then it is not one to treat lightly. Hitsugaya-san is a remarkable shinigami, soon to surpass even the Commander himself. He is disciplined and well versed in any area that would suit a person's use. Add that to his wielding the same element that you do and I believe you have found your perfect match, at the very least, your perfect instructor."

"But why me?" Rukia asks him.

"That is a question better directed to someone else."

"So you think I should do this?"

"I believe you should."

"Very well," she says with sudden determination. She stands and places the brush in her hand on the surface of the desk. "If you can excuse my absence I will go there immediately."

"Excused." Ukitake picks back up his teacup and sips it languidly, more than a little amused at the recent revelation of events, and watches her walk out of his office resolved.

Though he is happy, and grateful, that Hitsugaya has offered to help, even he does not know why the youth did so. Making Rukia aware of his own doubts would have discouraged her from seeking an opportunity he believes she can greatly, if not perfectly, benefit from. It was all in their hands now. Perhaps when she returned, she would give him an answer.

* * *

The sense of déjà vu that comes with standing outside his office is not unpleasant. It is apprehensive but not, in simple words, scary. High on her determination, Rukia knocks briskly and enters at once, only to be faced with an uncharacteristically empty desk. She falters, one hand still against the shoji doors, the other curled into a fist at her side. For a moment, she is overwhelmed by a feeling that flees quickly. Only later will she realize that it is disappointment.

She closes the door and enters the room with some trepidation. She half expects him to emerge suddenly from the inner corridors of his division but he does not. She searches for his reiatsu and does not find it. He is simply not there.

His desk is cleared of paperwork, even though it is still early in the day and she silently marvels at his ability to have completed a day's worth of it in so short a time. Rukia is contemplating where he might be when a voice from behind her says, "If you're looking for the sake, I'm sorry to say that I drank it all."

Rukia jumps so violently she can feel her teeth snap against each other. She spins around, her eyes darting to every corner of the room until they land on the slim arm hung over the back of the sofa, manicured nails twirling idly.

"Matsumoto-fukutaicho?" she says uncertainly.

"Little Kuchiki?" Matsumoto replies, mimicking her tentative tone teasingly.

Rukia stiffens at the 'Little' but decides to save herself the confrontation. "I didn't know you were here," she says explanatorily, "Forgive me for intruding."

Matsumoto's arm, the only bit of her Rukia can see, waves dismissively. "Think nothing of it," she says distantly. "I was just wondering what you were doing here."

"I'm looking for your captain," Rukia says truthfully. She feels some embarrassment and is confused by it but forces it down. "He isn't here," she adds rather unnecessarily.

"So it seems," Matsumoto muses, "Not that I'm complaining." Rukia sees the base of a bottle lift into the air, upside down.

She walks around the sofa. The lieutenant is sprawled across the length of the sofa, one arm thrown over the back the other holding an all but empty bottle of sake. Her eyes are half closed but her speech had been clear and precise, so Rukia does not make the mistake of thinking she is far intoxicated.

Matsumoto raises her gaze a bit to look at her. She seems to consider her with an intellectual scrutiny Rukia had not previously known her capably of. Finally, she says, "He's at the fourth."

Rukia hesitates. "Thank you," she says and bows but Matsumoto is already lifting the bottle again, searching for drops of sake that are no longer there.

* * *

Surprisingly, it is a dream that woke her. Through her period of comatose, Hinamori has suffered many unconscious nightmares. She would trash about on her cot, her hands swiping at the sheets, her eyes squeezing shut (not that they ever opened, mind you), occasional words spilling from her chapped lips. It was a painful sight.

On what seems to be a slow, warm day at the fourth, Hinamori wakes up. It was not as melodramatic as expected. In her violent dreams, one would think she would jerk awake, eyes flying open as her body shot from the bed. That was not the case. Rather, her eyes opened as though she had blinked. She breathed out, a breath that visibly passed through her entire body, her hands curling and then uncurling at her sides. For a minute, she just lay there, not seeming at all concerned about where she was or how she had gotten there. She seemed lost in thought.

Kotetsu found her like this, staring blankly up at the ceiling and if not for her opened eyes, one would have thought she was still asleep.

* * *

The door closes with an odd sense of finality behind him. The note in his hand, now held loosely between sturdy fingers bears marks of having been crumpled in a moment of unrestrained emotion, too unexpected to completely hide.

The room is pleasantly cool, demure and almost calming in a way. He looks at the girl on the cot and knows immediately what Unohana did not. He does not say anything and neither does she, though her eyes continue to bore a hole through the ceiling, interrupted only by the swift clean descent of heavy eyelids and fine long eyelashes.

An hour. She has only been awake for an hour. She has not spoken for _weeks_.

His sandaled feet do not even make noise as he walks around her, doing nothing to disturb the odd tranquillity in the room. He settles into the chair beside her cot, leaning back, his eyes roaming the room lazily.

Her steady breathing is almost a hum, like a distant song he can't quite remember the words to.

When she speaks, he is neither surprised nor startled.

"We won." A simple statement yet the words sound breathless.

He nods and sees her eyes flicker to him briefly. "We suffered," he says calmly and she sighs.

"I figured."

They descend into silence again, neither paying particular attention to the other but keenly aware of their presence all the same.

Eventually: "I'll be out of the fourth in a week. She didn't think I could hear her but I did. Unohana-taicho, that is. I won't be able to go back to work for a much longer while, though..."

Once again, he nods, having already come to the same conclusion.

"I wonder how much I've missed," she muses.

"Not much," he lies easily.

She doesn't believe him. Can't believe him, really, when it's so obvious that much has changed. She doesn't choose to pursue it, though, and instead turns her head to look at him, really look at him. Her eyes, he notes, are much darker than he is used to. There are heavy purple bruises around them. The evident strain makes them water and red, and as she makes no move to wipe them, they slide down her pale, hollow cheeks.

"You look older," she comments, her tone quietly curious.

_We all do. This war has aged us._

"Good," he grunts and this typical response gifts him a smile. It looks more like a grimace, though, and is small and fragile. Still, it counts for something.

Hitsugaya leans back in his seat. "How do you feel, Momo?" he asks calmly.

She twists her head to stare at the ceiling. "Honestly, tired," she replies, her voice a bit hushed and coarse from underuse. "Hard to believe when I've been in a coma for months. Mostly though, I feel overwhelmed, thinking about what's left and what I'm supposed to do now."

"So don't think about it then," he suggests simply.

"Oh, but it's so hard, Shiro-chan," she sighs and then glances at him expectantly from the corner of her eyes.

"Hitsugaya-taicho," he reprimands her for the sake of normalcy, though he has no desire to scold her. "Don't think about it, Hinamori," he advises her. "You have time to rest and recuperate for as long as is needed and the transition back will be at the very least tolerable."

She sighs heavily but says nothing, her eyes drifting close. He stands, looking down at her still but relaxed figure. "Rest now," he says and his tone is unusually gentle. He heads for the door.

"Thank you, Shiro-chan," she mutters behind him.

He pauses for a moment.

"Hitsugaya-taicho."

And then he is gone.

* * *

The familiar, slight figure in the corridor startles him a bit and he thinks that it's merely coincidence. But those large violet eyes lock on him immediately and he knows that he is who she's been waiting for. He sees the flash of indecision that crosses her face briefly before she sets her chin and quickly but smoothly closes the distance between them.

She bows very formally, her upper body parallel to the floor, and says with respect and just a touch of reverence, "Captain Hitsugaya."

"Kuchiki," he replies with equal formality and can't help the upward motion of his eyebrows.

She straightens up and he waits for her to speak but she falters for a moment, as though unsure of how to begin. He has a pretty good idea about why she is there but it amuses him to see the struggle in her face, in those expressive eyes, and though he knows he's being a bit mean, he can't help but remember that tilted smirk that graces her features in his presence, curiously absent at the moment.

"It may appear, Captain, that I do not know where to find you," she says at last. "You were not in your office."

"Indeed," he deadpans and watches the dip of her brow as she frowns. "How can I help you, Kuchiki?" He's taking no prisoners, perfectly pleased to stand there for as long as it takes for her to ask the question he knows she's too proud to voice.

Rukia exhales heavily, not enjoying his game in the least. _I'm not begging,_ she tells herself, _I'm asking—no, I'm confirming, yes, confirming. _

"The last time we spoke, Captain," she begins carefully. "You gave me the impression that you did not mind taking on the task of perhaps assisting my progression to a lieutenant position."

They are both aware that he did give her such a direct suggestion. It had been an implication, and though she is right in his intentions, he can't help saying, "Is that what you inferred?"

Rukia breathed out in a huff. For some reason his words told her she had been right and because she now knows he is being deliberately obtuse, retorts, "Am I to infer that your inclination that I know where to find you was made under scandalous intentions, Captain?"

His eyes widen and though she knows that she is out of line and that her reprimand will probably be severe, she doesn't regret it, because his surprise is unpredictably worth it all.

He narrows his eyes at her, and yes, she knows that she should back down, lower her gaze submissively and apologize as she has been taught, but he makes that _so_ difficult. She tilts her chin up, meeting his gaze and refusing to back down. At that moment, she doesn't care that her actions will cost her his tutelage, or be reported to her brother or even damage her chances of becoming a lieutenant. All she wants is to not back down from his challenging gaze, _to be equal to him_, if not in status or anything else, then in this one moment.

A patient—not defeated—exhale escapes his lips.

"Sunrise. Tomorrow. Don't—"

"Don't be late," she finishes for him, and her eyes brighten suddenly, dark purple turning unexpectedly light, and there it is, that small smirk that just barely tilts the corner of her mouth.

"What?" he snaps in irritation.

"You."

"Me?"

"Looking forward to tomorrow, Captain. Good day."

And she leaves him there, staring at her retreating back a bit stunned, annoyed, indignant and incredibly amused all at once.

_Tomorrow._

God help him.

* * *

**So, like, do shinigami believe in God?**


End file.
